


Dean Winchester is not a Bad Boy

by hunenka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s09e08 Rock and a Hard Place, F/M, Missing Scene, PWP without Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunenka/pseuds/hunenka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suzy used to be a porn star; she always thought she’d already seen it all. Well, she certainly hasn’t seen anything like <i>him</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean Winchester is not a Bad Boy

Dean is not a bad boy at all; it turns out he’s actually the sweetest guy Suzy’s ever met and this is the most vanilla sex of her life. And she couldn’t complain less.

She expects him to be quick about it, maybe say “now show me what you got” or “let’s see if you’re as good as the movies make you look”, probably ask her to do some of the things he must’ve seen her do on camera – and she would comply, because apparently that’s the only thing she’s good at, the one thing she doesn’t screw up like the counselling or long-term relationships or… well, anything, actually.

But he doesn’t do any of the things she expects, doesn’t treat her like the retired porn star in denial that she is.

He lays her down on the bed and takes his time with her, more time than anyone ever has before, and ignores his own needs completely. His attention is focused entirely on _her_ , but in a way that is completely new to her. He watches and reads her reactions, learns from them and soon he's playing her like a precious instrument, like his sole purpose is giving her pleasure.

He lavishes her with gentle kisses and little nips of his mouth, perceptive hands tracing and trailing every inch of her body, just like he talked about at the group’s meeting, only much better. He brings her off twice before finally moving on top of her, ready to slide inside her, and even then he pauses and hovers above her, his eyes boring into hers as he asks if this is okay, as if her opinion really matters, as if he’d really stop if she said no.

This is a completely new experience for her. His are lips soft and pliant where hers are hard and demanding, his tongue coaxing where her is assaulting, his hands calming and soothing where hers are raising scrapes and bruises, the sounds he makes little breathy moans and gasps where hers are loud growls and cries. His body is giving where hers is taking.

It’s like they’re two completely different elements, with her probably being fire – hungry and consuming – and him being earth – grounding and comforting, offering her flame the strength to burn high.

And when it’s over, he doesn’t just get up and leave. He stays with her, watches her with a faint smile on his lips and a mirthful twinkle in his eyes and his hands just keep on touching, stroking her hair and smoothing down the skin of her arm, brushing away the tears that trickle down her cheeks without her knowing why.

“You look happy,” she observes without thinking about it.

“I am.” He leans in to plant a soft, almost chaste kiss on her lips. “Thanks to you.”

And he means it, she realizes with a sudden burst of something she barely recognizes anymore, something long forgotten, something that might be self-forgiveness, and a spark of hope.


End file.
